Taking a few deep breaths, I steadied myself.
Were the bullies who I needed to forgive? Up until now, I didn’t think that their words affected me that much. It had been over ten years since I’d been in high school, and I thought I left that broken version of me behind…
Taking a shaking breath, I tried to picture the bullies I’d faced. It was impossible; their faces had faded from my memory. And it wasn’t as if there was any one specific bully that had tormented me — the razor-sharp comments that sliced through my self-esteem had various sources. At times, I’d even thought it was my entire high school class that hated me.
But at the end of the day, the person that hated me the most was myself.
And here I was again, hating myself for not measuring up to anyone’s expectations — Reese, Mason, Oliver, Leo… I would never be able to compete with them.
Taking a few deep breaths, I calmed myself and wiped my eyes.
I could do this. I would pull it together. Like my mother told me when I got into my moods after school, I needed to put my brave face on and go face the world.
Because, as they say, the show must go on.
Using a trick I’d learned from one of my favorite Youtubers, I chilled a spoon in the freezer for two minutes, then pressed it on my eyelids. This would take the swelling down.
By the time I was done, it was nearly impossible to notice that I’d cried at all.
There was a knock on my trailer door.
Oliver’s voice drifted in from outside, “Sure are taking your time, Farm Boy,” he taunted. “The world doesn’t stop moving for you…”
I flung the door open to see him standing there. His face contorted into a snarl.
“I’m ready,” I said, steeling myself. And for a moment, it was like a more powerful version of myself was coming to the surface; some strong incarnation of me that was built on the foundation of pure lies.
Maybe I was better at acting than I thought.
Oliver scowled even deeper and said, “come with me then. We’re running out of time.”
I followed him out of the trailer and traced his tracks through the sand. We walked in silence up the stairs to the castle.
“What’s gotten into you today?” I asked, annoyed that his mood was clouding up my space.
“Reese is all up in my business,” he said.
I was taken aback. Up until this moment, I was certain that Oliver had a problem with me.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He’s just weird today.”
“Maybe he’s hungover?”
“No, he only had one drink last night. I was watching.”
“What do you mean you were watching? I was watching you. You were completely trashed!”
He was silent for a beat, then said, “I hold my liquor well.”
For a moment, I was going to bring up the scene between us in his hotel room. The one where he tried to undo my pants button.
I could see the tips of his ears turning red, and I decided to drop it. Instead, I changed the subject to what he obviously wanted to talk about.
“What’s up with Reese today, you think?” I asked, climbing step after step.
“I don’t know, sometimes he gets like this.”
“Gets like what?” I asked.
I could practically hear Oliver roll his eyes. “Never mind.”
“I thought you were trying to hook up with him,” I said.
“Yeah, I was,” he grumbled. “Until you ruined it. Now he won’t have anything to do with me.”
“Wait you can’t blame that on me,” I reasoned.
He stopped and turned around, his green eyes blazing with fury.
“I can blame it on you if I want. It’s your fault!”
I wouldn’t back down to him; I stood my ground. “No, Oliver. It’s not my fault.”
I didn’t know what was giving me strength: The costume I was wearing, the fact that I’d already cried my eyes out earlier, or just being fed up with Oliver in general.
His jaw tightened as he stared at me. He couldn’t think of anything to say to that.
After a beat where we locked eyes, I said, “Aren’t we running late? Wouldn’t want Reese to get more upset at you,” I said, watching his face as my insult landed.
He scrunched up his face and gritted his teeth, then turned on his heel. We walked up the rest of the staircase in silence.
Once we got into the castle, Oliver led me to the dressing room.
“Who’s doing my makeup?” I asked, the coldness running like a base note through my voice.
“We’re having Leo’s makeup artist do it,” he answered clinically.
I sat down in the chair in front of the vanity, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. It was only a few minutes before I would have to reenact what me and Mason did last night. Only this time, the camera would be on me.
Since I moved to L.A. to try out acting, I was used to being in front of the camera. I was just afraid that I wouldn’t measure up to Mason’s presence in the room. Would he try to sabotage me? Would he try to make me feel small, like when he left my trailer last night?
I exhaled slowly as Oliver flitted around me, checking the sizing and buttons.
“Well lucky you,” he whispered. “It all fits perfectly. I’m a genius.”
“You didn’t even make this one,” I reminded him, eyeing him in the mirror.
He gave me a warning look, put his hands up, and touched my shoulders gently. Then he whispered in my ear, “I know about last night.”
I froze, then relaxed, waiting for him to continue. There was no way he could know about Mason and me unless Mason told him.
Maybe he was referring to me taking him to his room or something?
But all he did was smirk knowingly, squeeze my shoulder, and leave the room.
He was replaced by someone I didn’t recognize — Leo’s makeup artist, who frantically began work on my face.
We made small
